


Words unsaid

by nylie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Graduation, M/M, Post-Graduation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:56:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nylie/pseuds/nylie
Summary: There’s an ache in his chest, like a heart attack unwilling to give its last blow. The feeling sits wordless on his tongue, half open lips. Kuroo was never good at goodbyes.Kuroo, Yaku & Kai (don't) say their good-byes at Nekoma's grounds.





	Words unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> For kuroyakuweend, free day.  
> also unbeta'ed (cause I forgot about this one) 
> 
>  
> 
> PS. Kai deserves a best friend/best wing man prize.

There’s an ache in his chest, like a heart attack unwilling to give its last blow. The feeling sits wordless on his tongue, half open lips. Kuroo was never good at goodbyes.

There is no point in saying anything. Yaku will scoff, call him melodramatic, maybe punch him on his arm, or his leg, or whatever place he can reach first, which at the moment is everything; Kai will laugh, in the more earthy way he saves for special occasions, not how he laughs now, with that look Kuroo knows says nothing more than: _I’m onto you_.

Kuroo eats the feeling raw against his throat and doesn’t say a word. He throws himself backwards on the steps at the gym’s doors, his weight on his hands, his eyes on the sky. Beside him, Yaku, sitting a step above him, shifts on his spot to accommodate Kuroo’s new position. In the space that grows between them, Kuroo is suddenly aware of how their legs touch hips to toes and the brush of Yaku’s arm against his own. How close they are in such an open space. How much they would touch if Yaku decided to lean on his chest. Ha! Maybe, _that_ would ease the pain away.

Maybe, he _is_ being melodramatic. But even Kenma had hugged him ―half hugged him, leaned on his side, well, hit their arms together just one time, very quickly―, and there had been crying ―Taketora, most of all― and this is the last time they sit here, no longer part of the team, still on their uniforms, with their hearts alongside the bounce of the balls inside. He should be _allowed_ to be just a tiny bit melodramatic. And, honestly―

“Don’t.”

Kai’s voice comes from somewhere far away, even as he stands just by Kuroo’s feet. When Kuroo looks at him, he sees that easy comfortable smile resting on his lips. The kind they have gotten used to the past three years, amicable, open, delighted―as if nothing could ever bother him. Kuroo envies him. Kai bumps his foot against Kuroo’s toes, significantly, before he speaks again. This time, he sounds closer, a whisper prickling on Kuroo’s skin.

“I’m going to get going now.”

“The hell you are,” Yaku complains. He turns to Kuroo, his lips in a pout Kuroo can’t stop staring at. It’s cute and endearing and Kuroo seriously needs to gets his shit together. Yaku does it for him, smacking a hand hard on his shoulder. “Tell him he is not going,” he says and shoots Kai a glacial glare.

Apologetic, eyes of a saint, Kai, smiling at them with such fondness it might break Kuroo’s words out.

“He is his own person, you know, Yakkun?”

“I― I know.”

Yaku crosses his arms, looks back at Kai with a glare.

“I have dinner at home. Family graduation day tradition, or whatever…” Kai puts his hands on his jacket’s pockets, shrugs and pretends he doesn’t care he has to go. He is still looking at Kuroo, the look on his eyes undecipherable.

“Excuses. You are just happy to be rid of us.”

This is what Kuroo does, instead of putting words to the burning sensation on his bones: Kuroo jokes, light as feather, his fingertips dancing on top of his leg, dangerous close to Yaku’s arm. Kai laughs, that earthy laugh of his, the one he saves for special occasions. The one that says he doesn’t believe Kuroo’s disinterest one bit.

“You got me.”

Kuroo thinks he actually wants to say, _I got you_ , which is probably about right. He tilts his head and looks at Kai sideways, trying to understand him the way his friend seems to understand him. Maybe he can tell if Kai is actually making excuses, their toes still bumping significantly on the floor. _Why are you doing this?_ he thinks, eyes fixed on Kai’s warm ones. Kai smile widens, he doesn’t answer back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. The station right? Five?” he says, looking at Yaku.

“Yeah, whatever. Traitor.”

Kuroo can barely see the pout Yaku is trying to hide. He looks smaller, probably feeling as melodramatic as Kuroo is being, but less prone to admit it aloud. Kuroo trades his hand close enough to touch Yaku skin, a shiver that might be his or Yaku’s cursing through him.

“I’m sure you two can manage a few hours on your own. I’m graduating from baby-sitting you.” There’s a finality to his words, no layer in them carries regret or blame. Kai, warm smile and soft eyes, might have said _I love you two idiots_ and sound the same. They bump fists ―Yaku does so reluctantly― and without looking back, Kai walks towards Nekoma’s exit doors.

Silence, is a fragile thing. It has a rhythm Kuroo has learn to count and discern around Kenma. He counts to ten, to twenty, waits with his fingers against Yaku’s skin and the sound of the gym behind them as company. Silence, here, now, beside Yaku, is heavy with want and nostalgia, all sitting unsteady on Kuroo’s belly.

He is _definitely_ being melodramatic.

But the way Yaku doesn’t turn―doesn’t move, counts his breath―reassures him he isn’t the only one. Three years pretending they are nothing alike, only to be called out by a minute long silence. Silence, far stronger than their emotions combined.

“Are we still going for ramen?” Yaku doesn’t turn as he speaks. His hand somehow finds its way to Kuroo’s knee, lingers there without properly touching it. Hesitation loiters in its pause on the air. 

“Unless you want to let Kai, of all people, ruin our plans.”

“Right.” Yaku’s hand lands on Kuroo’s knee for less than a beat, he uses it to push himself up. The press of his fingers burns as much as the sudden emptiness his body leaves behind. “Let’s get going then or I’m going to end up back inside.”

Yaku scowls at the thought, but he is smiling at Kuroo, _with_ Kuroo, with a lightness that wasn’t there before. Kuroo’s chest feels tight with _something_ , some sort of yearning he can’t get rid no matter how many times he blinks at the sight of Yaku in front of him. His heart knows this is the last time they stand here, on this ground, together. He can’t help smiling back.

Yaku extends his hand to help him up and Kuroo clasps his fingers firmly around it. There are so many words choking on his tongue he thinks he won’t be able to speak up.

“I’m paying,” he says. Kuroo hopes he understands.

Yaku looks about to complain; he stares at their hands, still wrapped around each other’s, shakes his head, says, “Alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos&comments are love.  
> Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


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